


Small Packages

by ShootingStar7123



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Humor, Romance, short people, short protagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 03:03:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20220745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingStar7123/pseuds/ShootingStar7123
Summary: A collection of short stories about a short Shepard with humor, romance, and a touch of angst. Shepard/Garrus.





	Small Packages

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun prompt from the Mass Effect Kink Meme! So thank you to the anonymous person who inspired this story. I loved the idea immediately (since I am extremely short myself) and thought it would be fun to explore. These are a set of interconnected vignettes in mostly chronological order. Thanks for reading and please let me know if you enjoy it!

As Pallin stormed off, Garrus turned to the side and blinked in surprise at the trio of Alliance marines walking up the stairs. That _couldn’t_ be Commander Shepard, could it?

Upon receiving the reports from Eden Prime, it had taken him less than a minute to pull up Shepard’s Alliance files. She was recruited off the streets of Earth, no home address or next of kin listed. She’d risen through the ranks rapidly, culminating in an invitation to the prestigious N7 program after being the only survivor of a massive thresher maw attack on Akuze. Everything in her file spoke of her being the best humanity had to offer as far as soldiers go, even if there were numerous demerits for her attitude noted therein.

But he’d never imagined humanity’s best and brightest to be so… tiny.

She had to be a good half-meter shorter than him, if not more. He’d never seen such a small soldier. Like a child playing dress-up in her mother’s armor. But when he met her eyes, he straightened up as if he was under inspection. This tiny woman commanded respect without having to say a word.

“Commander Shepard? I’m Garrus Vakarian…”

…

“Williams?” Garrus asked, and saw the marine stiffen as she turned around. Her distrust of aliens was obvious.

“Can I help you, Vakarian?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Does the Alliance have a height requirement?” He looked over to where Wrex towered over the commander, the two of them chatting like old friends. They got along scarily well.

Ashley, following his eyes, immediately understood the point of his question. “We do,” she said, relaxing marginally. “Five feet, four inches. About, uh… 1.6 meters or so.”

Garrus’s brow ridges lowered. “But the commander…”

Ashley’s lips turned up, hinting at a smile. “She got an exemption. Admiral Hackett himself approved her application.”

Garrus wasn’t familiar with Admiral Hackett, but it was incredible that any admiral would intervene in such a way. “How did that happen?”

Ash shrugged. “No one knows, exactly. I heard she beat the recruiter in hand-to-hand and made him cry.”

Both of them gazed over at Shepard, laughing hard and punching Wrex in the arm.

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Garrus muttered.

It was years before he got up the nerve to ask the woman herself. They were on the SR-2 after liberating it from Cerberus when he finally got the answer.

“The truth?” Shepard smirked at him over top of her beer. “I was so persistent and belligerent that they just kept pushing the issue up the chain of command. Eventually word of me got to Admiral Hackett. I told him that if the Alliance didn’t get me off that shithole planet, I was going to start taking out their recruitment stations. He was the only one who was smart enough to take the threat seriously. He approved my application that day.” Her eyes glittered with amusement.

Garrus chucked in disbelief. “Remind me to never get on your bad side, Commander.”

…

Kaidan eyed Shepard and then the driver’s seat of the Mako warily, but kept his doubts to himself. It was a tank, it could handle some bad driving. It was designed to keep the people inside alive and well.

Despite this logic, he couldn’t completely quell the sinking feeling inside of him. Could she even see out the viewport?

Wrex felt no such compunction to keep his doubts to himself. The krogan let out a rumbling chuckle as he saw the Mako’s interior.

“Need a booster seat?” he asked the Commander, red eyes full of amusement.

“Go fuck yourself, Wrex,” was her immediate response, before kicking him in the backside to send him tumbling onto the passenger’s seat.

“Besides,” she said, “I’m not driving.”

Kaidan’s eyes snapped to her in confusion and she gave him a little grin.

“Alenko will have that honor,” she said, and her eyes glittered. “I’m on the gun.”

Kaidan had that dubious honor every time he went out on missions with Shepard, with the added pleasure of attempting to follow directions yelled to him from the gunner’s turret.

Still, he didn’t regret it until Ilos, when her instructions consisted of _“Gun it or so help me God I will end you!” _

He’d done as she said all the way to the conduit, and crash landed right in the middle of the Presidium.

He crawled out of the overturned tank in shock, standing next to where Shepard stared back at it. “You crashed my Mako,” she said, sounding a little dazed.

Garrus came up beside them both. “Uh… I don’t think it’s fixable this time.”

Kaidan had never, _never_ been so grateful to be shot at by geth as at that moment.

…

“Raaaagh!” The tank-bred krogan stormed towards Shepard to pin her against the wall.

With ease, she ducked under his outstretched arm and quickly pulled her pistol, digging it into a weak spot in his armor.

“No one attacks me on my ship,” she snapped at him. “I know you just woke up and are disoriented, but you’d better _stand down_ soldier, before I shoot your balls off!”

The krogan tilted his head in surprise and backed off a little. “You… are the commander? You are in charge here?”

“Yes,” she said in a warning tone. “I’m Commander Shepard. I have a strong crew. You’d make it stronger. If you don’t have a death wish, that is.” She dug the pistol deeper between his armor plates.

The krogan began to laugh. “You have a quad for such a tiny thing!”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who’re you calling tiny, baby krogan?”

…

When the rescue ship landed on Akuze, they were horrified by the carnage.

Bodies were strewn everywhere, battered, burnt, and broken. Among them were the dead maws. The marines had put up a good fight, but the newly promoted Captain Anderson hadn’t expected to find survivors.

Still, they combed the wreckage carefully, alert to any tremor or sound. It was inside the burnt-out husk of a prefab that they found her. For a moment, Anderson thought she was a child, but then he recognized the armor, damaged as it was. She didn’t even glance over her shoulder when they entered.

“Can this wait?” she asked, hands busy before her. “I’ve almost got the last one.”

“Last what?” one of the marines muttered, shifting in discomfort. Every minute they were on this god-forsaken planet was a minute too long.

Anderson approached cautiously, looking over her shoulder at what she was working on. _Bombs_, he realized. Homemade bombs, from the wreckage of the platoon’s equipment. That was when he realized what she meant.

The last _thresher maw._ Had she been the one to kill them all?

Despite his shock, he didn’t miss the injuries that littered her body, some of which appeared to still be seeping blood. She argued when they wanted to take her back to their ship, fought when they forced her. Was furious, bellowing invectives when Anderson called for a large marine to carry her tiny form to the med bay instead of letting her finish.

David Anderson knew immediately—she was the one he was going to recommend for the N7 program. He smiled at the thought. The Villa wouldn’t know what hit it.

…

“All we have to do is survive,” Grunt said, listening to the Rite’s explanation of the last task.

“Survive what?” Shepard asked, frowning. Garrus looked around carefully for any sign of movement.

A moment later the rumble started beneath their feet.

“Oh, fuck these motherfuckers with a rusty fucking spoon!” Shepard hissed. “Take cover! Thresher maw!”

Garrus winced and dove for cover. Grunt had _no_ idea what was about to happen.

The moment the maw burst out of the ground, Shepard began screaming profanities at the top of her voice while aiming her rocket launcher. “I’m going to kill you, you motherfucker!” she screamed.

Grunt began laughing joyfully, taking pointless shots with his shotgun and shrugging off acid splashes.

Garrus, trying to get a few sniper shots in edgewise, was just grateful they weren’t in the enclosed space of the mako. His ears rang for days after the thresher maw on Edolus.

It was unsurprising that the maw was nothing more than a puddle of goo in less than two minutes.

When they finally got back to see Wrex, Shepard’s voice was so hoarse she could barely speak.

“What happened?” Wrex asked, sounding amused.

Garrus shook his head. “Don’t you remember the thresher maw on Edolus?”

Wrex winced at the memory. “Ah.” He turned back to Shepard. “What you need is lots and lots of ryncol! That will burn your throat right back into shape.” With a friendly slap on Shepard’s shoulder, the two wandered off, leaving Garrus to follow.

…

Shepard stared at the Black Widow rifle in the weapon shop’s display case. “Christ on a cracker, that thing’s gorgeous,” she muttered.

Jacob leaned against the glass, amused. “You barely even use your rifle,” he said. “Wouldn’t Garrus get better use out of it?” He indicated the turian, who was standing a little further down, looking at the assault rifles.

“Pfft.” She waved a hand dismissively. “Garrus would never betray his precious Mantis. When he was practically dying on Omega he still had a death grip on that thing.”

“I’d call it a loving embrace, myself,” Garrus butted in. “Considering some new equipment, Commander?”

“I sure am,” she said, and waved down a salesperson to get the Black Widow out for her.

The salesperson handed a display model to Shepard, showing her how it could be made compact to carry on her back. Shepard stroked the rifle longingly, practically salivating over it.

When she hefted it into her arms, Jacob couldn’t help an amused snort. Fully extended, the rifle was as long as she was tall.

“What?” she snapped at him.

From behind Shepard, Garrus was shaking his head with wide eyes.

Clearing his throat, Jacob looked away. “Nothing, Commander.”

She narrowed her eyes before turning back to the salesperson. “I’ll take it.”

…

“Why don’t we skip right to the tiebreaker?” she said, smirking up at him. “We can test your reach and my flexibility.”

Garrus felt his mandibles flare reflexively in shock. His mind raced. Did he want this?

The answer to that came embarrassingly quick. Spirits, yes, he wanted it. He’d never wanted a human before, but this tiny, fiery woman had invaded his fantasies with the same fierceness she applied to everything.

On the other hand, how would this work? They were different species and he was… so much bigger than her. Would it even fit? Would he hurt her?

He saw her waiting patiently for an answer from him and realized that if _that_ was his reason for saying no, she’d probably cut his balls off and sell them to a krogan.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “Uh, definitely. If we can figure out how to make it work…” _Smooth moves, Garrus._

Her teasing smirk slowly transformed into a real smile, one that reached her eyes. “We’ll figure it out,” she promised. “You do a little research,” she said. “I hear you’re good at that.” And she slipped out the door.

Garrus turned back to the console, but his mind was far too scrambled to make heads or tails of firing algorithms now. Shepard just loved turning his world on its head.

…

She looked smaller than ever, curled up on the med bay cot. Garrus sat beside her, stroking her hand in a gentle way that she’d likely tease him for when she woke up.

At least he hoped she would. He was afraid of what the last two days had done to her.

Everyone knew about Hackett’s visit. There were few secrets on a ship. Whispers had been passed around, rumors had been shared. The Alliance was going to lock her up for this. It wasn’t her fault, but they needed a scapegoat.

Garrus was furious.

She would be, too, when she woke. She wouldn’t let this break her, but she was still mortal. Capable of being hurt.

They had a little time, he reminded himself. Before she’d have to turn herself in. He vowed to make it as memorable as possible. If they were going to be apart, he was going to make sure she had good memories to take with her.

…

Shepard stared at Vega. “Anderson is taking _my_ Normandy? _My_ captain’s cabin?”

The large marine shrugged, his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s the rumor anyways. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Thanks,” she said. She liked James Vega, despite the fact that he was officially her jailor. A thought came to mind and she gave him a wicked smirk. “Let Admiral Anderson know that he’ll want to give the captain’s cabin a thorough cleaning before he takes up residence. A _thorough_ cleaning.”

Vega shuddered. “TMI, ma’am.”

…

Garrus and Shepard’s reunion on Menae wouldn’t have seemed like much to an outsider, but the look they’d shared had promised something better as soon as they had some privacy.

“Do you still want me?” she asked bluntly when she’d finally been able to escape to the main battery.

“Always,” he said. And she’d leapt upon him.

Their relative size difference made some of their activities difficult, but Shepard was never shy about yanking him down for a kiss or to press her forehead up against his.

Her favorite position was in his arms, legs hooked over his hip spurs. Something about holding her small body in place while he pounded into her made him feel strong, powerful… and if the looks she gave him were any indication, desirable.

That position, among several others, made an appearance that afternoon in the main battery. They finished snuggled up on his cot, speaking little but enjoying the company. He could see she wasn’t ready to talk much—even naked, she still had her armor on.

Every now and then, when he got lucky, he would see those walls come down and something honest would pass between them. It gave him hope that this was more than just a fling, more than just sex.

Someday, when he was a little braver, he’d step out into that abyss and see if she was willing to follow.

…

“Where the hell is that mod?” Shepard grumbled, digging through a box in the cargo hold.

Cortez shook his head as he saw Vega walking over. Whatever the guy had planned would not go well for him.

“What, you mean this?” Vega said, a shit eating grin on his face as he held the rifle mod up high, out of her reach.

Her eyes narrowed.

Before Vega could react, she’d swept his legs from under him, knocked the air out of his lungs, and ripped the mod from his hand.

“Yes,” she said, her voice calm and breezy as she walked to the weapons bench. “That’s the one, Vega.”

The marine stared at her from the floor, wide-eyed and wheezing. When he finally peeled himself off the cold metal, Cortez could hear him muttering to himself something about “loco”.

…

Hours after they’d cured the genophage, after he’d tried to get her to rest, Garrus found Shepard in the observation lounge, empty bottles at her feet and one dangling neglected from her fingers. Her gaze was unfocused, her shoulders slumped.

He sat down beside her. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, careful not to push too far.

“Home,” she answered after a long pause.

“Was it bad?” he dared to ask “On Earth?”

Shepard didn’t look at him.

“It was a shithole planet anyway,” she said, taking a swig of her beer as she stared out the viewport.

Without saying a word, Garrus put an arm around her, joining her to stare out into the dark.

…

Garrus had been planning this date for a long time.

“Let me know if you get vertigo from being up so high,” he teased. “I know you’re used to being close to the ground.”

“Eat a dick, Vakarian,” Shepard replied, but it lacked venom. She never minded a little teasing from him. “This view is incredible though. Does the world always look like this to you, you giant?”

He chuckled. “No, this view is special. I saved it for you. Do you like it?” He stepped closer, only inches from her.

“You know I do,” she said.

“Good. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping it would inspire a certain… mood.” His heart raced.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, her voice more gentle than usual.

Garrus took a deep breath. “Shepard I… I love you.”

She stared at him, and he got more and more nervous as she failed to speak.

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. “I’ve never been loved before,” she said finally.

His heart ached at the confession. “Shepard… I—”

“Don’t try to take it back, Garrus,” she interrupted him, the hint of a smile on her face. “It’s a good thing. I don’t know if I can say it back yet. I don’t have a lot of experience in that department,” she said, sounding unsure for possibly the first time since he’d known her. “I want to, but… when I’m sure I’ll let you know.”

Garrus pulled her in for a hungry kiss, which she returned in full before he pulled back, ready to lighten the mood a bit.

“Well, I have more planned for this date than shocking you with my confessions of love,” Garrus said wryly. “I brought rifles and food. What do you want to do first?”

“Ooh, food!” Shepard looked as if Christmas had come early.

Garrus couldn’t help but laugh as he reached into the skycar for their picnic basket. “I still don’t know where you put it all,” he said. Shepard could eat like a krogan when she wanted to.

She grinned. “One of the mysteries of the universe, Garrus. You’ll never know.”

…

Tali walked into the mess and stopped in her tracks. “Uh, Shepard? What are you doing?”

Shepard was standing on top of the counter, one arm holding the cabinet door open and the other reaching to the back of the highest shelf. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Hoping to commit suicide by turbulence?” Tali offered.

Shepard rolled her eyes as she pulled a can out of the cabinet and looked at it. “Got it!” She grinned.

Carefully hopping down, she said, “Vega hides the good stuff back there. He thinks I won’t find it, the bastard.”

Tali tilted her head. “Why don’t you just tell him not to do that? You’re the captain!”

“More fun this way,” Shepard said, smirking. “He’ll never know it was me.”

Tali nodded slowly. Shepard was already opening the can into a pot on the stove. “I’ll just… leave you to it,” she said, backing away.

Sometimes she just didn’t _get_ Shepard.

…

Shepard didn’t look badly injured. _Smaller target,_ she used to joke sometimes. They couldn’t joke now.

Not when he was gravely injured, Tali nearly as bad. Not when she was going to go on alone.

The Normandy arrived for evac. “You’ve got to get out of here,” she commanded.

“And you’ve got to be kidding me!” Garrus replied, full of fire despite the pain that wracked his body.

She reached out a hand to cup his face. “I love you, Garrus,” she said solemnly. “I always will.”

“Shepard I—” He stopped in the middle of his protest, giving into what he knew was about to happen. “I love you too.”

And then she was gone, running towards the beam. Garrus stared as long as he could, wondering if the first time he heard those words from her would also be the last.

…

Despite everything, Garrus counted himself as lucky.

It was months before he heard her voice again. Before he’d been able to return to Earth, before she’d been out of her coma, before they’d removed the breathing tube.

Now, no one could shut her up. She was constantly arguing with the doctors and nurses, complaining about being stuck in the hospital for so long. Right now she was fighting about being fitted for her new prosthetics.

“Can’t you make them longer than my original legs?” she demanded.

Flustered, the doctor tried to explain the reasoning behind why that would be a bad idea. The obstinate look on her face made it obvious that none of that was sinking in.

“I like your size,” Garrus cut in. “You’re perfect the way you are.”

Shepard’s eyes narrowed a little, but he could tell she was softening. His marriage proposal at her bedside a week earlier had made her a little more susceptible to his requests. She’d even agreed to meet his family, though only once she was able to leave the dreaded hospital room. She fingered the engagement ring that hung on the chain around her neck.

“Alright,” she conceded. “But when we get out of here, just remember it was _your_ idea that I won’t be able to reach the top shelf in the kitchen. How do you feel about learning human cooking?”

“For you?” Garrus said. “Anything.”

…


End file.
